rabid bunny

i am compassion
fatigued
i am pissed off
i am tired
of putting
other people’s feelings
first
like a spark
to a cloud
of gas
my anger
flares
& i go from
gentle
bunny
to gnashing teeth
&
terrible
claws.

i lost it on a librarian the other day. i sincerely believe (through common sense, instinct, & research) that wearing a mask is bad for my health…bad for my children’s health…bad for everyone who does not have a compromised immune system. the environment of microbes around us are meant to be breathed in & out–not our own carbon dioxide….
i could go on, but i won’t because if you don’t already agree with me, i’m probably not going to convince you.

i live in a small town in a rural area of wisconsin–but the town is teeming with the liberal attitude of mask up & don’t ask questions.
i ask questions.

& when a librarian, 20 feet away, in an empty room, tells me to mask up as i pop in to grab my library holds, i get pissy.
i’m tired of trying to make these people feel safe (because it is just an illusion–they aren’t any more safe for their covered faces–not really) while doing something to my own body that i know is not good for it. not being able to breathe is just not good for my body. not getting my dose of microbes is not good for me….

so why do they believe their health more important than mine?

ps…happy new year!! suck it, 2020!

still feral

here i thought
i was one of you
those peace-loving
justice-seeking
liberals
here i thought
i was like
these people i see
everyday
but
it’s kinda like that time
i convinced myself i was
a morning person
only to find
so much relief
when i embraced the night….
now i look
examine
the path i have been
travelling
all along
the path where i call myself
an anarchist
the path where i find myself
attracted to the celtic goddess
morrigan
who is both life & death
birth & battle
growth & destruction
and
i remember again
my quest for
balance
my need to accept
that conflict is as much
a part of life
as peace
&
harmony
one cannot exist
without the other
it would be
unnatural.

tomorrow is election day in the united states. some people think things will magically get better after election day. i suspect another story will unfold. a less than desirable history in the questionable history of our country.

i am not a liberal.
i thought i was because they tell us we are either conservative or liberal. conservatives being the bad guys & liberals being the good guys. (though my parents told me it was the other way around)
right.
it’s a story like everything else about this country.
conservatives are like giant two year olds who want what they want, consequences be damned.
and liberals are like those three chimps: see no evil; speak no evil; hear no evil…. or ostriches with heads deep in the sand.

that’s my story, anyhow.
as i embrace my feral nature once more.
tomorrow i will vote third party as i (almost) always do in my efforts to push over the see-saw of politics in this country.
& i will hope for the best because
if things don’t change, things are going to change….

apples & oranges

when apple peddlers
in masks
at the farmer’s market
look at me
funny
for confessing
i eat an apple a day
to stay healthy
…i know
the world
has gone mad.

i am a big believer in what you put in your body. i eat organic & non gmo as much as possible.
but, we live in a world, where we are fed processed foods…no one doing anything to get us clean air, clean water…but, yes, put on a fucking mask to stay healthy.
of course, i do have a head cold at the moment–but i am blaming the fucking stress for my health, not my refusal to wear a mask.
i am so fucking stressed out–by the state of they world…by the struggles of a single mom….
however, i don’t believe a mask is going to save me. good food might save me?
and, yes, i want my immune system to have access to all the stuff it needs to keep me alive–which includes germs.
i want oxygen reaching my brain & blood cells, etc. which means, yes, a mask is a bad idea.
so now i have a cold.
is that a bad thing?
i feel like i should be wearing a scarlet letter for daring to get sick in a world where everyone is being conditioned to be a germaphobe.

quick rant on latest trending panic

back
when i was on the fringe
for homeschooling
my children
people would ask
with accusation in their tone
“but how will your children
be socialized?”
& i would tell them
easily
in every day
interactions
with other people…
the hypocrisy
does not
escape me
that these same people
are telling me now
keep my kids at home!
mask them!
keep your distance!
as i am shamed
for letting my kids
have those ever
still pertinent
social
interactions.

why are we letting our children be turned into socially deprived, immunocompromised neurotics?
i worry even more about our future. i am not worried about covid19…i am worried about how our reaction to it is damaging generations to come.

another art journal page inspired by my talking to the city council about re-opening our parks in this remote community with zero cases of covid.

woe is me

living inside
your own head
you forget
about
the world outside
a world that works against
single low-income moms
a world
that won’t take a risk
on you
no matter
how good your heart
might be
a world that is set up
to grandstand your options
telling you to
follow your dreams
but in the end
leaves you
very few choices
the more kids
you have
the fewer
choices
they say it takes a village
they don’t tell you
that the village
will quickly tack up
a “no vacancy” sign
when they see
you
coming.

how’s the house hunt going?
well, pretty fucking hard since i can’t even get out to look for a place…& then when i look at the average application for a rental & they want a job & income & job history…
all i feel is despair.
i have savings. i have enough to pay a year’s rent. i have sparkly clean credit. i have child support payments. i have government aid. i spend less money–with four kids–than the average u.s. citizen without dependents does. i am frugal as fuck. but i have to get face to face with a real person–the right person–to convince them that this is enough…& being seemingly physically trapped here at hotel california…how the fuck do i make that happen?
i was going to try to run out to iowa today to look for rentals & someone to convince that i am a good tenant. the minions come home tomorrow….
despair says, “why even bother?”
but i can’t just run over to iowa with four kids in tow. iggy hates road trips (he got that from his dad–not me,) & i don’t want to budget in a stay at a motel (though they do love motel tv.)
so three weeks until the next time i am able to run to iowa sans minions…meanwhile, the lawn grows free now as the lawn mower died on me. so i should get that fixed. i don’t even know how to go about that. i so so so hate being all alone out here.
yes, i’m a feminist, but fuck me if i want to do everything myself. i want someone here who knows how to do all the stuff i suck at. i want someone in my life who appreciates what i can do & who i worship for their ability to fix a mower…or clean a toilet…or just hold me & tell me it’s all going to work out when it feels like the world is spinning out of control.
sigh.

if you want to contribute to my “income”…. here are sneak peaks of some of the posts you would be able to see as a patron of mine….

the main image is of a character of mine that hopefully will one day have a story….

my life, my universe, my everything

this is an ink stain creation from…when? is there a date on it? there should be a date on it, but i think i cut it off in the scanning of it and the original was used as a piece of stationary to write a letter to seymour.
of course, seymour never responds to my love notes…
maybe if i put a “do you like me back” with a box to check yes and a box to check no.
seymour does not respond to my–i don’t even know what it qualifies as–dedication? obsession? true love? stalking?
who the fuck knows? not this socially backwards chickadee.
i’m sure one of the many mental health professionals that likes to follow my blog could weigh in…but would i listen…probably not.

in other mental health news…
i thought i had popped back out of my depression. i mean, while the minions were with dusty, i was functional and not too mopey. i got things done. i did not spend all day in bed…or drinking…or drinking in bed….
but then i had to see dusty in order to fetch the minions, and that seems to have triggered a fresh depression.
yay.
i just feel so much anger towards him. so much betrayal. so much frustration & helplessness. and i can’t talk to him about it, because he finds a way to turn everything i say to him into a weapon against me.
that is some fucking talent.
so he has been paying for my internet, and we have been using his netflix account. many months, this is the only child support i see from him.
but now his contract with the internet is up, & he is cancelling that as well as his netflex (or so i hear from the minions.)
for some reason, this leaves me feeling so fucking pissed off. so fucking pissed off.
i am already super isolated in the country with four kids. i mean, i assumed his canceling the internet was a financial decision, but a friend suggested it might be for the purposes of further isolating me…and i could not find an argument to the contrary.
abusive men do like to isolate.
however, dusty has not has a job since he lost his job last january by coming down here (and staying past his welcome) when i asked him down to help with my parents. he never even told me there were issues with his job. i only found out much later that he was fired for blowing his job off to come down here.
so, yeah, it’s my fault he was fired.
but then he found another job, recently, but quit it when he thought i might let him move in here. even though i told him it was a maybe and we could talk about it. then of course i was given that big neon sign from the universe that he is still a prick & will always be a prick & what the fuck am i thinking?
but, in the couple of days where i considered it–before sobering up–he went ahead & quit his job.
did he talk to me about it first seeing as his moving to illinois was dependent on my letting him move here?
or seeing as me & the minions are directly affected by his income or lack thereof?
no…mr. “let’s talk” did not talk to me before quitting his job.
and now he likes to mention it as if it is my fault.
it’s my fault he quit his job…of course it is.

okay. rant done.

so now i am depressed again. a garden sits waiting for rain and for me to get off my sad ass to turn the soil & plant more veg. one of my bee hives died and i need to address that. the new chicken coop waits for me to build it. and, of course, sheep…goats…ducks….geese…and minions.

in conclusion, if there is a wealthy benefactor and/or someone handy on a homestead out there waiting to pop into my life, now might be the time.

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